And just like last time, there have been some wonderful changes in a very short amount of time.

Most notably, his breasts have grown. Again.

Like, a lot.

Like, it’s getting to the point where they’re pretty damn noticeable even under his clothes.

I mean, they’ve been noticeable under his clothes for awhile, but only if you were looking for it, and only when he moved a certain way.

I remember the first time I noticed was back when he was taking the pills the first time, and we’d gone out for drinks after he got off work. He was wearing his boy costume, his work clothes, and looked like a man.

But at one point, he turned and stretched a bit, and I saw the curve of his breasts under his shirt.

And goddamn, it was fucking hot.

But literally no one else would ever have noticed that. I noticed it because I think I can safely assume I’m more familiar with his current body than anyone else alive (other than him, of course), and I notice things like that. Also because I was aware of the fact that he had breasts, and was looking for little hints of them.

And I mean, they’re not huge. I couldn’t really notice a difference in looking at him head-on.

But when I touched them, the difference was unreal.

When I first met him, his entire body was hard and muscular. Two months of the pills before had softened his breasts and added… I don’t know, half an inch or so to his hips, giving him a subtle, feminine curve. In fact, he’d gained four pounds while he was on them.

There wasn’t much change to his hips tonight, but his tits are growing much faster than I thought they would.

Which is fucking awesome, m’kay.

I grabbed them and was flat-out stunned by the size and softness of them. A month ago, I could grope him and get about half a handful.

Tonight, I groped him and got more than a handful of sexy sissy tit.

Like, holyfuckingshit, that’s so fucking hot!

He, of course, preferred to pretend that it wasn’t that noticeable.

“Maybe they’re not actually bigger,” he said.

“Well, it’s either that or my hands have shrunk.”

“That’s always possible.”

He’s adorable when he grasps.

But no, they’re growing. I really noticed the difference when I looked at him from the side. His stomach, abs, hips, everything is flat. And once upon a time, his chest was pretty flat, too.

So he’s going to need to start wearing a bra soon, and not just when he’s dressed in his girl clothes. I don’t want his tits to start sagging.

I’ll be nice, though. His work shirts can often be on the thin side, so we’ll stick with plain flesh-colored (or colored to match whatever shirt he’s wearing) sports bras, that won’t be seen through his clothes.

Eventually, if he’s going to keep up the boy facade, we’re going to need those chest binders that ftm trans men wear.

But I’m happy. If they keep growing like this, he won’t ever need breast enhancements.

And of course, his cock still doesn’t work. At this point, it’s safe to assume that it probably never will again.

So the only way he can cum is from prostate stimulation.

Which is unbelievably, amazingly, wonderfully awesome. He’ll never be able to cum like a man again. He’ll never be able to fuck a woman again.

Yay!

There’s one thing I love even more than the physical changes, though, and that’s the effect it has on his mannerisms, and the way he moves.

It was something completely, wholly unexpected. Nothing I read about even hinted at this kind of change. I noticed it before, and was just blown away by it.

I don’t think I’ve ever consciously registered the way men and women move/writhe/squirm/whatever when they’re being teased before. It wasn’t until that night, watching him writhe as I held the wand to him, that I realized there’s a big fucking difference. Suddenly, every girlfriend I’ve ever had, every girl I’ve ever played with flashed in my head. And yes, there are similarities in the way they moved. And yes, Sounder now moved like that.

He arched his back like a girl, he ground his hips like a girl, he even started whimpering like a girl, the longer I went on. Over the months that I’ve played with him, I’ve gotten very familiar with his body. I could tell immediately that he was moving differently.

And hell no, I didn’t expect that. That’s not a physical change, like breast growth or rounder hips. That’s a mental, physiological thing. Nothing I’d read about the effects of the birth control mentioned anything about that.

It wasn’t subtle, either. At first, I thought for a minute that he was doing it on purpose, to please me. But the more I teased him, the more I realized that no, this was natural and completely unconscious. He wasn’t even aware of it.

The only thing I can think of is that the hormones are affecting his brain chemistry in some way. I mean, no one teaches a girl how to move like that. It just comes naturally, because she’s a girl. Maybe his mannerisms are becoming more feminine because of the increased levels of estrogen and decreased levels of testosterone.

Maybe? I don’t know, it shocked us both. But I freaking love it.

As obvious as it was back then, it was even more obvious tonight.

We were sitting together on the couch, him naked, watching TV. He really is so sexy when he’s naked, and I had been playing with Tammi Lynn off and on the entire time we’d been sitting there.

But then, with a subtle thrust of his hips, I was immediately turned on. I reached down, rubbing his p-spot.

Within minutes, he was gasping and squirming on the couch, his legs spread wide, writhing and moaning.

And once again, I was struck by the difference in the way he moved. The way he arched his back, the way he thrust his hips, the way he moved his legs, I wish I’d recorded a video of it, so he could see it for himself.

That was my first thought, actually. It was so hot, the way he moved, my mind immediately went to wanting others to see him move like that. Writhing in my arms, whimpering so sweetly as his pleasure mounted.

Soon, desperate and hungry to cum, like the slutty sissy he is, he put his hand over mine, wordlessly begging me to bring him to the edge.

And when he came, his back arched, he moaned loudly, his hands clenched into fists, it was so fucking hot. I wanted to do it again.

So I did.

Yeah, I definitely want to do that to him in the middle of a crowded room, and let everyone watch him move like a girl.

So I don’t know if you guys know this, but there’s this adorably hot sissy I own. Like, a million kinds of sexiness.

And for the past few months, he’s been dealing with some stuff that make typing about impossible. So his blog hasn’t been active. Which is fine, I told him not to worry about it. It’s not like the blog is going anywhere.

And as it turns out, there are some really cool things he can post that don’t require a lot of typing.

Like sexy pictures that show off his sexiness.

Because I’m just a teensy bit of a fangirl of his sexy, slutty photos. Just a little bit.

But you know, it’s selfish of me, keeping a bitch this hot all to myself. The world should be able to see how unbelievably hot he is. I should share him with the world.

So I very subtly suggested the possibility of posting them on his blog. His very own sissy gallery, for the masses to appreciate.

And he, being the sweet, obedient whore that he is, quickly complied, posting three very hot sissy pictures on his blog.

I highly recommend checking them out. You can find his blog, Sounds Like Jesse, in the sidebar (or down at the bottom if you’re reading this from a phone), or you can click here to see his newest post.

Okay, so first, it’s been a few days on the antibiotic, and I’m actually doing alright. Just nausea, headaches, and cramps so far.

And as long as I don’t eat or drink anything, and am not exposed to any kind of strong smell, the nausea is totally manageable.

The point is it’s not sucking as bad as the doctor said it would so far. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

And the past couple of days, I’ve had something totally fucking awesome to focus on.

Which would be shopping for a new bedding set for my darling sissy.

What he’s got on his bed now is typical of what you’d find in any normal man’s house. And my sissy is neither normal nor a man. So he needs something to better reflect his true self.

He’d be so much more comfortable in something that more closely resembles who he is inside.

Isn’t he lucky that he’s owned by the kind of caring, compassionate woman who would notice such a problem and work to fix it?

Actually, we can thank him for me noticing the problem. He introduced me to a fantastic new sissy website, thesissystore.com, and I immediately fell in love.

No seriously, I love that site.

But as I was perusing through it, I noticed an unexpected category: “Bedding.”

Now, the category was actually nothing special. Just a couple of pillowcases and a pajama set (which my sissy already has). But it gave me the idea to redo his bed.

A sissy bed for the sissy. It’s so fitting.

But there are so many wonderful options to choose from!

Like this one.

Or this one.

And isn’t this one lovely?

I mean, there are so many options.

Sooo many options.

And of course, solid pink isn’t the only one available. There are some very adorable ones with pink and white trim.

I mean, just so precious. And while I certainly love pink, we can’t discount other colors, either. There are some lovely options in blue

So there is plenty to choose from. Plenty of options to make him feel like a comfy, cozy sissy all night.

And some of them look very cute and youthful, but there are more “grown-up” options, too.

Isn’t it so elegant?

And here’s the plan, I’m totally excited about the plan. He’s going to order the set, but he’s not going to have a single clue about what it looks like, and it’s going to be shipped to my house.

When it gets in, I’m not going to tell him. I’m going to go to his house, while he’s at work, and put it on his bed, and make it look all pretty. Then I’m going to leave, so he’ll have no idea I was there.

He’ll get home, walk into his house, completely unsuspecting, then walk into his bedroom to see his new gorgeous sissy bedding there, waiting for him.

Of course he’ll know it’s coming, but he won’t know when. He’ll just come home from work like any normal day, and there it’ll be, in all its pink, lacy, frilly glory.

I’m unbelievably stoked.

But now, it’s not all about just picking the prettiest picture. There’s more to it than that.

First of all, the whole reason I’m doing this is to make him feel like a sissy. All of these bedsets would certainly accomplish that… at first.

But he’s going to be sleeping in it every night. He’s going to have to deal with it, day in and day out, indefinitely.

So that’s something to keep in mind as I’m shopping. Some of those sets look absolutely amazing, but with all the bows and lace and frills, much of a pain in the ass is it going to be to take care of? Can it be machine washed or does it have to be dry-cleaned? How big and heavy is it?

And on that note, he’s a hot sleeper, so that’s something to take into account as well. Super thick, heavy comforters may look pretty, but they’ll be just stifling to actually sleep in. We live in Las Vegas. It’s a desert. It’s 120 degrees in the summer (that’s 49 degrees celsius, for my readers outside of the US).

I don’t want the discomfort and the inconvenience of any set to start overshadowing the sissy factor.

So maybe something a little lighter, a little simpler, would be the way to go.

And it being lighter doesn’t necessarily make it any less frilly.

Isn’t this precious?

These are all super feminine and sweet. So maybe a less-is-more approach will be more practical in the day-to-day, while still driving home the fact that he’s a sissy.

And then there’s another approach. I could go with something more trendy and modern, something you might find in a normal, everyday woman’s house.

Like this, isn’t this pretty?

And since Paris-themed bedding is all the rage now, maybe something like these.

So I mean, there are so many options that may be a little lighter.

But then again, I do love the more ornate ones.

So those are some great options. But still, there’s more to think about.

Some of these are only available on sites like aliexpress or dhgate. If you’re not familiar with either of those, think Amazon, but for Chinese sellers. And not all of those sellers are reputable. Also, most of them don’t speak English, or speak very broken English. I’ve gotten a couple things from aliexpress, and I know some people who have had mixed experiences with either aliexpress or dhgate. It’s a legitimate risk if you’re not buying from an established seller, and none of the sellers that provide these sets have enough of a history and enough customer feedback to make me feel comfortable buying from them.

And then there’s the issue of price. Some of these are over $500. And most of them are duvet cover sets, that only come with the duvet covers, bed skirts, and decorative pillows/pillowcases. So I need to get the duvet insert and sheets separately. I mean, that’s just insane.

So there’s a lot to think about. And then of course there’s the humiliation sissy factor (ie, the fun part). Eventually his entire room is going to be a beautiful, pink, sissy heaven. It’s exciting.

I’m beyond excited, dude.

I can’t wait. It’s going to be so epic when it gets in, and he comes home to see it on his bed. I’m actually tempted to time it so that I finish up just as he’s getting home, so I’ll be there to see his face.

I’d have to do something with my car if I go that route, though. I still wouldn’t want him to know, I’d want him to be surprised. Seeing him walk into the bedroom, seeing the look on his face as he sees his new sissy bed for the first time would be epic.

And how awesome is it going to be the first time a man comes to fuck his mouth on his new sissy bed? Man, it’s just an obscene amount of awesomeness.

One thing I love about my sissy is how artistic and creative he is. This shows in the unbelievably sexy pictures he sends me. Like the most recent one, which he sent last night. He’s in such a sexy, provocative, inviting pose, I just can’t resist imagining pounding him until he begs me to stop. And with a picture this sexy, it would be greedy for me to keep it to myself. I need to share it with the world.

Look at how sexy he is. Tell me you wouldn’t want to pound his ass until he’s nothing but a whimpering, squirming, writhing little puddle of sissy cockwhore.

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All pictures posted on this blog are either taken by me or shamelessly swiped from the interwebs and assumed to be public domain. If you own a picture posted here and wish it taken down, please contact me at dominajen@yahoo.com.

What this blog is

This is an 18+ blog about my day-to-day life as a Domina, wife, mother, and all that other crap. A chronicle of me. While this blog focuses primarily on the D/s aspect of my life and my relationships with Kazander, Steel, and Sounder, it is not exclusive to that subject, and I might talk about my kid, or my annoying mother, or my sister's pet cat, or whatever the hell I feel like talking about.

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Sounder’s Blog: soundslikejesseblog

As with most things in life, there are two sides to a recent story Domina Jen told. By now I’m sure you’ve all read the account of a certain act, which shares the name of a popular spa/salon service, but this one came without a eucalyptus candle and a bath robe. Yes, that one. Saturdays […]

For those of you who don’t follow Domina Jen’s page, well check that, why would you be here if not for her blog. Nobody picked up Joanie Loves Chachi independent of Happy Days, how would that even happen. So let me re-phrase that, as you have likely read by now, Domina Jen and I are […]

As most of you have already read, Domina Jen and I recently “experimented” with hypnosis. I say “experimented” both with actual, and air quotes, out of a natural skepticism of hypnosis. Who among us wouldn’t be skeptical? However, when Domina Jen gets something in her mind that she finds intriguing there’s little that can be […]

Steel is no longer my sub, but his blog is still wonderful, and worth reading.

Steel’s Blog: Grind_'n'_Throb

It begins over a friendly disagreement, during which you smile, roll your eyes, and say, “Go fuck yourself.”

“But, Ma’am, that’s physically impossible.”

You smirk and ask how certain I am of this. On a roll, I launch into a smug and tangential rant about the anatomical impossibility of an individual’s being capable of fucking oneself. Your response is to merely shrug, smile, and make a cryptic statement:

“Don’t be so sure…”

Later that evening, you tell me bedtime will be early, an hour early to be exact. The amused look on your face says it would be in my best interests not to argue.

Sometimes I fall into a vicious cycle where I’m mentally and emotionally frustrated and cannot manage to channel that energy into productive avenues. In the old days, this would lead to drinking or drugs, but I don’t do that anymore. Instead, I try to go about my day, generally fail to complete mundane tasks and end up feeling ‘stuck’ – this progresses into a cycle of mild depression, feelings of inertia, guilt over said inertia, and then on and on it goes until something snaps me out of it.

It feels like I’m seated in a car stuck in neutral yet compelled to rev the engine until it screams.

When did I last curl up in her lap? It’s been so long, I cannot recall. Despite numbered boxcars on the calendar and the disinterested faces of clocks, a concrete memory eludes me. Time, location, and date, they’re merely three dimensions after all.